Sub-rosa
by forever-a-loan
Summary: Sequel to Carnival of Venice. Year has passed and Ezio meets Altaïr once more. However their encounter might not be the same.
1. Chapter 1

The sun was setting down, marking yet another day's end. The bloody red was gradually fading out, leaving the sky blue for the night. Seagulls were squawking in the distance, away from the shore. Waves were silently hitting the border – wind was as light as ever. You could almost mistake the weather for peaceful summer evening, if it weren't for the coldness in the air, the shortness of a day and the clamor of people around. Sounds from every direction could fill your ears. Shouts and cries were accompanied by various activities. Men were unloading heavy cargo from the ships, carrying them to the neat piles. Others transported the crates to their proper destinations around the city. Women were more or less chatting around or ordering men what to do and whatnot. It seemed that the people were so engaged in their tasks, they did not even admire the beauty of the scenery before their eyes. Without a glance they carried on with their tasks. However their determination was clearly visible. The port was lively to say the least. After all, this evening surpassed its usual commotion. Today people began preparing for the long awaited event. The carnival of Venice was soon to be starting.

High above the turmoil, Ezio watched the scenery unfold before his eyes. Sitting leisurely on one of the roofs, leaning against the warmth providing chimney he let himself have a time out. His stretched out legs were crossed one on top of the other, feet slightly moving from side to side as his mind was preoccupied with many thoughts at once. The preparations for the Carnival made some of his hidden memories resurface. Almost a year had passed since the events he was not sure how happened at all. And what a year it was! During that time, he was constantly in motion, searching, tracking, and killing his enemies or those who stood in his way, getting closer and closer to the source of his hatred. Oh how he craved for it. To kill the man, who caused his never ending pain and suffer. It was this man who left him with no family, no source of warmth and comfort. For that he must pay. He was determined to avenge his slain family. Few silent minutes passed, and Ezio's sudden outburst of bitterness faded out. Yes, the revenge was his priority alright; nevertheless, there were other things to ponder upon.

For example, Altaïr.

At this Ezio let a long sigh. All the year he tried to push away thoughts and questions on this matter. However, he knew this couldn't last forever. Once or twice he tried to investigate Altaïr's past. Or present. Anyway, his research was fruitless. He failed to acquire any new piece of information, something that he didn't already know, that is. The assassin shook his head. Last year, instead of fooling around, he should have asked Altaïr some questions, for now he knew _nothing_ about the other assassin and not only he felt bad, but also embarrassed. To lose head so quickly… It was not like him. All the training he had, all the lessons he was taught fled from his mind instantly, once Altaïr claimed his mouth with his own. Those rough, wind struck lips moving against his, that sandy odor of his clothes filling his nose… _No. Stop._ Ezio had to breathe in and out deeply to calm his body and mind. Here he was again, distracted by those few memories, that kept repeating inside his head. Whenever he lets his thoughts drift to that direction, it always disturbs his rational way of thinking; also, it makes him want to hasten the days until the actual evening of celebration.

Ah, those painful seven days. He had waited for so long; surely, few days won't do anyone harm, right? Digging his fingers painfully to the clay tiles of the roof he tried to reassure himself. His long awaited night was just around the corner, yet Ezio's patience was running thin. Very thin. Somewhere along the lines he realized, he needed Altaïr both physically and mentally, and to wait for a week more, was one of the most painful experiences in his life. How such changes could be made in less than a day's time? He wasn't so sure himself. But that night's effect was clearly visible to the Italian assassin. Of course, that night was the axis of his thoughts, but a bunch of various doubts and fears were nagging him. Ah, why these things have to be so difficult to deal with? Pinching the bridge of his nose, the assassin yet again had to restrain himself from acting impulsively. Maybe he could use these seven days to solve his inner problems? Maybe then his mind will continue to work properly and he will comprehend his own behavior better? He hoped so. Making a silent promise to put his thoughts in order before confronting Altaïr, the assassin stood up, brushed specks of dust from his pants and shirt, and made his way towards the brothel to stay for the night. Surely, good-natured ladies will be glad to help him with his current problem.

* * *

It's no secret that Ezio loved a company of lovely women. One could actually say that he was quite a regular customer of brothels. Every courtesan knew him, and each of them sought to keep him company for the night. The assassin didn't mind such attention; in fact, he was satisfied with their interest in him, and the skillfulness of their eager hands which tend to ease his troubled mind. Ah, but now he had entered some kind of metamorphosis. Lying on silken pillows, holding an almost empty glass of fine wine did nothing to make his mind go numb. His companion for the night was working very hard to relieve stress; however, even she was of no use to him right now. Continuing her ministrations she purred something incoherent to Ezio's ears. Undesirable thoughts were once again penetrating his mind. Closing his eyes, he replaced talented courtesan's figure with that of a Syrian assassin. Apparently, this was a good choice, since tricking his brains into thinking he was with Altaïr made his body respond in a ways it should have in the first place. Experienced hands were tracing Ezio's skin, and he countered those gestures with similar skill. It all went without a hitch afterwards.

When the deed was done, both partners felt fulfilled, sinking to the softness of pillows once again. Ezio knew it was very shameful to mentally replace the woman with a person of his desire, however he couldn't help it. Fortunately, he didn't give himself away. Closing his eyes, he felt the weariness envelope him, and the man decided to let it take over.

* * *

The next day the assassin woke up feeling peaceful and refreshed. Leaving the brothel and bidding the girls farewell, Ezio headed to the city's market, in order to fetch something for breakfast. The sun was already hanging high in the sky, making the city look nice and bright. Trying to squeeze through currently filled streets, the man chose to shorten his journey by traveling via the nearest canal. Leaning over the railing of a bridge, he swiftly jumped from pole to pole leaving fascinated crowd's comments behind his back. Ah, he preferred this type of traveling to walking among the citizens. He felt free and without a sense of being watched. A sudden thought that he should show this method of making one's way to Altaïr crossed his mind. He would like it. Maybe he would even praise him. At that Ezio felt his heart warm. He would _definitely _show Altaïr his learned skills as an assassin. Maybe one day Ezio will catch up with Syrian master assassin. To reach such rank, to be Altaïr's equal… Could he say it was his lifetime goal? He doubted. But still, the thought was a nice one. Ezio let small smile escape his lips. Oh, such innocent thoughts, and he was already feeling giddy!

His journey was coming to an end. The Italian assassin could already smell tasty food in the air. Making the last giant leap, he smoothly landed on the stable ground, in the heart of a market. Visiting few of the stalls, he bought himself a nice warm _focaccia, _couple of apples and a bottle of fine home-made wine. Gathering his goods he went to sit on a nearby bench, and start the feast. His empty stomach was already asking to be filled, and Ezio was more than willing to obey. Munching on his savory bread, the assassin scanned his surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place. As the day before; people were decorating every corner with flags and lanterns, for the Carnival. Marketplace was the heart of a city, and it was obviously evident, since people of all statuses tended to walk around.

His eye then had caught a young couple acting affectionately towards each other. Ezio knew it was none of his business, especially when two people were having such private moment, but the assassin couldn't hide his curiosity, also, he tried to reason himself that if they wished for discreetness, they shouldn't have act like they did in such a public place. He eyed them secretly, taking a bite of one of his apples. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from them. As soon as the thought reached his brains, he felt like slapping his own face. What the hell was he thinking? What, that he and Altaïr could show affection in broad daylight? Oh yes, no doubt he could, but not more than a few minutes would pass and they would have to face the wrath of society, not to mention guards. They would be hanged in no time. But they were both assassins... He shook his head. It's not like he wanted to spend his life hiding in the shadows. Better to remain obscure.

His musings were interrupted when the couple entwined their fingers. It was such a small gesture, yet it held such a meaning. He could not help but think if Altaïr would allow himself to hold hands like this? Pah, highly unlikely. Was it even a custom in Syrian's times? Maybe he would be misunderstood, and the master assassin would turn away, back to his era, never to return. Besides, he could not ignore that small inner voice that was telling him, that Altaïr assumed, their previous encounter was a one night stand. He swallowed a large chunk of apple, and it uncomfortably slid down his throat. The idea of being neglected was absolutely frightening. Though he wasn't sure why. Finally the couple made their leave, their decision highly appreciated by Ezio. Emptying half of his bottle, he sated his hunger and thirst. However, he wished not to have eaten so much, since the previous train of thoughts made his stomach churn in an unpleasant way. Six days left, and the assassin was already feeling anxious. His mind was a mess, he knew. He also knew that it was not like him, to have so many doubts and thoughts especially regarding such topic as relationship. Could he even call their encounter like that? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed that they actually did _not _have any kind of commitment to each other. So why his mind was so preoccupied with this damned matter? Question upon question, and answers were nowhere to be seen. He really wanted to punch something, if not to gain information, then to get rid of this tension and mess inside his body.

Some time had passed, while he sat on the bench, absently rolling now empty bottle between his hands. The sun was already going down, due to the short days. Standing up abruptly, he disposed of the bottle and strode past the market. The assassin was determined to spend the rest of his day punching empty air, or preferably, a tree to let off some steam. He couldn't explain where all this aggression was coming from, but it was there. And his fists were yearning to hit something so much. How could he deny his own body?

* * *

Day after day Ezio countered his own mind, questioning himself, and trying to regain his sanity. At the same time, people of Venice were getting happier and happier with each passing day. Only one day left until the long waited event. Tailors had already finished intricate costumes, and their customers were eager to try them on. Musicians were rounding up their rehearsals, instruments already prepared for festivities. The entire city was anticipating celebration. The same couldn't be said about Ezio. The man dreaded the Carnival, for the reasons unbeknownst to himself.

The said man was making his way through one of the streets, quite near the _piazza _where he had an appointment the next day. Brushing past the merry crowd he stopped at one shop selling masks for the masquerade. Eyeing the whole assortment, the assassin picked up the white domino mask. It wasn't elaborate, but had a faint black eye lining. The mask reminded him of Altaïr. Inspecting the item a little bit more, he paid the shopkeeper and took his leave. Putting the mask in one of his inner pockets, Ezio contemplated whether Altaïr will accept his gift. Snorting to himself, he brushed his stupidity away. Italian won't take no for an answer, the Syrian _will_ wear a mask; it was a tradition after all. And if Altaïr disapproves… well then, Ezio will have to make him to change his mind.

Day was replaced by night, and then the sun had once more taken the sky. However, morning was far from pleasant. The assassin wasn't feeling refreshed at all. Last night's sleep was uneasy for him. He had difficulty in shutting off his brain for the night. And so, now he was not in the mood, to say the least. Everything irritated him; the laughter of children, the cacophonic chattering of women or the squawking of passing seagulls. It's the day he had been looking forward for a whole year, and yet, it was little of what he imagined. His previous thoughts were also bugging him; a lot. He couldn't get rid off the idea, that Altaïr had already forgotten him, and that there is no way he was coming back. What if all he had said was false? What if he _didn't _come each year, what if it was just a coincidence, and he was tricked so easily? And he had put so much hope to a single day. It was impossible, this… relationship, if there could be any in the first place. If everything Altaïr had said was true, they would meet once in a year, and that would mean seeing each other for about forty days until their lives end. And yet again, it was a very naïve thought. Could their affair evolve into something so big that would consume their whole lifetime? Ah, everything was so complicated, and Ezio couldn't figure out what he had got himself into. Maybe it was better to finish this once and for all before he got attached to Altaïr. It was so easy to mount a horse and ride far away… But no; he was a man of promise, and so he shall face the Syrian. Ezio will meet Altaïr and tell him off. His heart dropped a little, yet he tried to reassure himself – it was for the best.

Few hours later, and various colorful creatures were making their appearance. It was so similar to the year before, and yet so different. Ezio hesitated going to the _piazza_. He was bracing himself, for the events to come. Pacing back and forth the assassin repeated the words he planned to tell Altaïr. Scheme in his head seemed pretty easy: Go to Altair, spill out the reason why this thing will not work out, support your speech with constructed arguments, tell goodbye, turn around and leave. Yes, that will suffice. What could go wrong? Nothing. He will deliver his speech, provided that the Syrian comes. What if he doesn't..? Hah! _Pang. _Even better. It would save him the effort. He gritted his teeth. That damned assassin… Putting on his red carnival mask from the year before, he strode with confidence towards the _piazza_, although ache of unknown source filled him.

Step after step he was getting closer and closer. The familiar path, he took exactly one year ago, greeted him. Same buildings and alleys, bridges and stairs; it all seemed like a memory or a long forgotten dream. Same music and cheers filled the air, same people acting same as before. Ezio felt like he never left this place, all of it was too well-known. He had to admit, Venetians were really good at decorating places. They had a sophisticated taste in colors and ornaments, and every detail seemed to fit its place perfectly. Finally he entered the square. As he expected, the environment here too, was more or less the same as in the previous year. The assassin scanned the crowd with his eagle vision, hoping to get straight to business.

No blue spots.

Something inside him dropped a little. _So that's how it will be_. He felt anger and disappointment rising up. His biggest fear was coming true. It seemed that Ezio was nothing but a toy, and what is worse, he made no effort in denying it. Ah, to hell with it. He had silly hopes and now they were shattered. Well good! Very good! From now on he will be free to do as he wished no more nervousness or bothersome thoughts. In fact, because Altaïr hadn't enough courage to show up, he will not have to recite that speech. Even better.

The next few seconds were a blur. Someone grabbed him harshly from behind knocking out his balance. Ezio was about to fall down, but they quickly grasped him by his biceps and with one quick movement threw into a nearby alley. Ezio let out a sharp cry when his back hit the wall, and soon he felt a breath near his ear. With a warm puff of air came a silent yet recognizable voice.

"Missed me?"

* * *

**So the first chapter is out. Thank you all for reading, and have in mind that reviews spur the process of writing. :3**


	2. Chapter 2

Ezio was lost for a moment. Here he was, pinned to the wall by the man he had waited this whole year. By the same person who occupied his thoughts more often than he wished so himself. For a second Ezio wanted nothing more than to kiss and kiss the man before him. And yet, he managed to get a hold of himself, he had already decided, hadn't he? Sticking to his previously arranged plan, Ezio contemplated the way out of his current position. Trying to break free from Altaïr's clutch he wriggled and kicked, yet it was useless. Altaïr wasn't titled master assassin for nothing. His strategically situated limbs were making Ezio uneasy. Altaïr's intentions were unmistakable, and that made Italian assassin feel even worse for pushing Syrian away. He squirmed some more, but seeing that using force was of no use, Italian tried different technique.

"Let me go", he spat with as much rage as he could gather at that time.

Sensing from Ezio's tone that something was wrong, with a hesitating movement Altaïr did as he was told. He even took a step back, which was highly appreciated by Ezio. Straightening up, and fixing his crumpled clothing Italian assassin lifted his eyes to look into Altaïr's shadowed ones. It looked as the Syrian hadn't changed a bit. Same outfit, same body posture, even goddamned hood was in place. And yet when Altaïr whispered into his ear he felt like melting. Not that he's going to tell that to someone or anything… Sigh. Okay, he had to concentrate. Yes, so Altaïr had come, but that didn't mean anything. He was still ending this, no matter what. _Remember your reasoning; remember why you are doing this._ Right, Ezio had to act out.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Taken aback by the cold tone used towards him for the second time today, Altaïr replied, "greeting you, of course". The awkward silence filled the air, and Altaïr waited for Ezio to respond. "Yes well, I would hardly call that a greeting", he growled, stroking his damaged back. "You're acting weird". It was a statement. Oh, he almost forgot how Altaïr was with words. One sentence, nothing more nothing less. It irritated him.

"How would you know? Theoretically, we're acquainted for less than a day!" Was he talking too harsh? It wasn't going according to his little scheme. He didn't mean to quarrel; he only wanted to end this… thing. Altaïr remained silent. Was he offended? No, he should know better than that. Harsh words meant nothing for the assassins. Okay, he should finish this. "Look," he carefully arranged the words he was going to say "I enjoyed last year very much, it was indeed very pleasant", pause "However, nothing will work out between us, so let us move on with our lives and forget about this. It was my honor knowing you, Altaïr. I wish you all the best. Take care". He bowed his head a little and walked away, leaving dumbstruck Altaïr alone in the narrow alley. Ezio managed to turn around and take few steps when the master assassin grabbed his arm, preventing him from going any further.

"Why?"

"I have told you alrea-"

"Have I done something wrong?"

The sad tone of Altaïr's voice was making him uncomfortable. Also, the hand, that was clutching his arm felt desperate, not bruising as before. It was strange to see the great Altaïr break up so easily, not to mention confusion in his gestures. Ezio was feeling regret. But he knew that ending this was the only way. It was better to finish now, than to live one day per year for the rest of your life. The assassin's life was short as it is. He didn't want to shorten it any more.

"No. I'm sorry," he gently pulled his arm from the other's grasp, feeling that Altaïr's hand was slowly dropping to his side.

With each step Ezio felt worse and worse. He had done it. He had cut down their bond, or whatever that was. The man was approaching other side of the alley, leading to a silent side of a city; he didn't feel like celebrating at all. His sour mood was contrasting too much with the jolly atmosphere around him. Thoughts about the other assassin once again invaded his mind. What will Altaïr do for the rest of the evening? Will he brood like the year before? It saddened him, and yet what's done is done. They will have to move on. He had escaped Altaïr's presence, and now he could breathe easier. Soft night's wind was stroking his flushed cheeks. Quiet walk will calm him down. Pacing alongside the canal Ezio's mind was once more filled with worry and sorrow as the weight of his previous words dawned on him. What had he done?

Then, in front of him out of nowhere appeared Altaïr.

Such persistence.

Sigh. He braced himself for yet another plea. "Altaïr I already told you-"

Night swallowed the unfinished sentence when the master assassin softly planted his lips on Ezio's. Altaïr wasn't using force; instead he just gently caressed Italian's mouth with his. The act was both unexpected and touching. Ezio didn't know what to do, but he certainly wouldn't respond to the kiss. At least, he didn't want to. But his body seemed to have a mind of its own. Thoughtlessly snaking his hands around Altaïr's neck he reciprocated the kiss, similar in gentleness, yet filled with more want. In exchange, the other assassin placed his palms on Italian's back, digging under tightly tied belts and straps to feel the soft material of Ezio's clothing. When they parted Ezio had a change of heart. It will make no harm if they spent this evening together. Actually, it would be a _waste_ to let Altaïr wander alone in this city. And then, when the night will come to an end Ezio will once again assert his former statement. He will definitely leave Altaïr, with or without latter's approval.

"Stay with me"

Ezio's contemplations were interrupted by a pleading whisper of Altaïr. He was amazed at how many feelings the master assassin was showing tonight. Was he so desperate? Could it be that Ezio's assumptions made few days ago were false? Ah, no matter. Coming to senses and noticing that he still had his arms around the other's neck, the assassin pulled himself closer to Syrian and buried his face into his neck. Feeling Altaïr's pulse with his forehead he mumbled, "I will".

They stood like this for a couple of minutes. Both of them were not sure what to do next. Altaïr didn't want to let Ezio go, for he could turn him away again so he drew invisible circles on Italian's back. Ezio, on the other hand, was having a mental battle, which apparently his common sense was losing. And fast. Breathing in Altaïr's warmth, Italian decided to push all his doubts and negative thoughts away and just enjoy the moment. He planted few soft kisses on Syrian's neck and made a sign for Altaïr to take off his hands from his back. Although master assassin's face was shadowed, he could sense the questioning look directed to him.

"I have something for you," Ezio reasoned his actions. Taking an object from his inner pocket he handed it to Altaïr. "Here, take it."

The older assassin took an item and turned it in his hands in order to see what it was.

"A mask?" He tried to hide his surprise. "What for?"

"Put it on." Ezio hopped he will comply with his command.

Eyeing Italian suspiciously, Altaïr lowered his head, took off his hood and fastened the white accessory. "Well?" he rose once again, looking Ezio straight in the eye waiting for some sort of comment from the other.

Ah, as he was checking Altaïr out Ezio had no doubts about his taste in things. The mask suited Syrian perfectly. It made him look even more mysterious than before. Also, since the hood was gone for a moment he could observe his whole face. Light provided by a small street lantern cast great shadows beneath them, but Ezio could spot Altaïr's golden eyes looking directly at him. And that look pierced him sharply. He remembered receiving the same glance that night exactly one year ago, and how it made Altaïr look…

"Beautiful" Ezio couldn't avert his eyes. "You look beautiful."

Altaïr smirked, showing no signs of embarrassment "Isn't this word used to describe woman's beauty?"

Italian approached master assassin and planted soft kiss to other's lips. "No woman could surpass you."

Should Ezio have known that such sweet talk was all that the older assassin needed he would have shown all his vocabulary long time ago. It seemed that words of mocked adoration fueled Altaïr's self-confidence and in turn encouraged him with a new wave of lust. Ezio could see that Syrian had been showing enormous amount of restrain, considering the speed and force of Altaïr's further actions. He didn't notice how or when most of his clothing disappeared, since his mouth was more or less preoccupied by the time he realized they were both half-naked. "Wait." As much as he wanted to continue with their task, what he _didn't_ want was to oversleep all of Altaïr's stay. After all, they had so little time. "Wait." He repeated, but Altaïr was already making his way down Ezio's body. He had to do something, and fast. Or else the evening will be shorter than he had planned. With regret he caught Syrian's head between his hands, lifting him up and making master assassin look him in the eye. Ezio could see disapproval and need radiating from him. "Don't do this. Not now." They were both panting and flushed, but Italian was still trying to prove his point. "I want to show you the city". Okay, so that was poor excuse, however he hoped Altaïr would be sensible enough to understand the meaning between the lines. Thankfully, he wasn't mistaken, for Altaïr stopped his activities. Without a word he detached himself from Ezio, leaving the latter to dress up properly.

Ah so Altaïr wasn't pleased with him cutting off their fun time. Was there only one thought in Syrian's head? Suddenly Ezio felt so decent compared to the master assassin. So that's how it feels.

"Shall we proceed?" Altaïr's voice brought him to reality. Really, Altaïr looked composed, like nothing had happened (how did he manage that?). To his surprise Altaïr remained with the mask, however the hood was also pulled on, hiding Syrian's face and making Ezio a little bit annoyed.

"Proceed?" He was still busy tying the belt that was holding his cape in place.

"You said you wanted to show the city." It sounded like a complaint, clearly emphasizing that the Syrian would rather be engaged in other activities.

Ignoring other's tone, Italian finished adjusting his equipment. Without hesitation Ezio turned around and started climbing the nearest building. Running up a wall he reached for a ledge, pushing himself higher and higher, and hoping that Altaïr will follow his lead. Once he finally made it to the roof he turned around to help the Syrian up, but the master assassin was already standing next to him, showing no signs of exhaust, as if climbing to a four storey building was the easiest thing to do. Hmph. _Show off…_

"We will make our way over the rooftops, since crowds of people in the streets would slow us down." Ezio reasoned his choice of travel in addition to filling the awkward silence that was starting to form. Altaïr still seemed to be sour from before.

"Where are the guards?" Ah, master assassin was always alarmed. Good, at least one of them was.

"Celebrating, of course," Ezio retorted. Sensing the gloominess radiating from Altaïr, the Italian assassin without hesitation commenced their travel. With a great speed he ran up and leaped to the next building, as his feet touched the tiles he was once again on the run. Ezio climbed and ran and jumped, looking over his shoulder once in a while, to make sure Altaïr was following him. He was following alright; in fact Ezio had to hasten himself for Altaïr was hot on his heels. The distance they had to cover was great; they had to traverse all the carnival's area in order to escape its clamor. Luckily they were both skilled assassins and were making their way quite easily, sometimes, if they were lucky there even was a rope between to houses, making it easier to cross the gaps.

It felt nice; to travel with someone for a change. Come to think of it, he had never met anyone who could match to his skills. Ah, but Altaïr… Ezio felt like a novice around him. The Syrian had this confidence aura radiating from him, and all his actions seemed well calculated and mastered. He created the impression of true master assassin through and through. Italian then realized that he didn't know how old this Altaïr was. He shouldn't be much older than Ezio himself, right?

Accompanied by such thoughts they finally reached the end – there were no more buildings to continue their travel. Dropping to the ground they were facing the Grand Canal. Extending his hands Ezio announced „This, my friend, is the artery of Venice, the one and only, the magnificent _Canal Grande._" He tried to sound as solemn as he could, however his wide smile prompted otherwise. He could see that Altaïr was enjoying his attempt to entertain, and a thought crossed his mind, that master assassin might not be having much happiness in his life. With a wave of his hand, he continued „but no matter. Come, I'll show you something better." He took Altaïr's hand and dragged him along. The hold of their hands reminded Ezio that couple he had seen few days ago. And all his previous thoughts about public affection were resurfacing. He released the hand in a flash, trying to act as if his impulsive act was nothing serious and continued to urge Altaïr to follow him. Ezio still had his smile on, but now it was more to mask his nervousness and anxiety. _Stupid Ezio, you promised to behave. _However his inner scolding was interrupted when Altaïr clasped Italian's hand and firmly entwined their fingers. Ezio's instinct was to pull away but when he tried to do so, he received a comforting squeeze. That small action made Italian assassin all warm inside and he was sure he was going mad, because he had never felt like he did then. His body and mind were affected in ways he couldn't even start to comprehend. _This is bad. This is really bad. _

Thankfully at that time they reached _Ponte di Rialto_. Two rows of market stalls were lining the sides of a bridge. At any normal day, the _ponte _was buzzing with merchants and traders. Its wooden construction was decorated with Carnival's flags and lanterns. This bridge was their way to the other side of Canal. Still hand in hand they were crossing the bridge, while Ezio gave some information about the object's history. It seemed that Altaïr was drinking every word from Ezio's mouth. Occasionally he even asked some things that were not clear to him, and the Italian was more than happy to fill the missing gaps for him. At that moment Ezio felt very wise and important to Altaïr. For some reason, being the center of Altaïr's attention formed inner sense of satisfaction to him.

Before they could approach the other side, the Italian dragged master assassin to one of the bridge's railings. He had already finished his story and now, sitting on a wooden bar, he made it obvious that he wished to stay here for a while. Altaïr didn't mind, and also made himself comfortable on the railing. Both of men were staring at the rippling water beneath them.

„So," Ezio started the conversation „how do you like it so far?" His cheerfulness was affecting Altaïr. The Syrian had already calmed down from his unsuccessful attempt to make out and his gloominess had almost faded out. „It's a nice city", he responded „different from cities of my time too." The small sentence made Ezio's smile drop. Here it goes again; Altaïr and his ability to stab with short and accurate sentences. Altaïr's words reminded him the harsh reality, that the man sitting next to him was nothing but a mere ghost. Short-lived and forbidden. Just his luck.

Noticing a sudden change in Ezio's expression, Altaïr nudged his arm „Hey," once Ezio looked at him, he asked „what's wrong?" His concern touched Ezio making his heart beat a little bit faster, but he remained composed. He didn't want to be depressed all night and drag Altaïr to his gloomy mood too. But Italian made no response to Syrian's question either. Instead he looked into water and had a sudden urge to cool his heated body. Sure the water temperature was low, but at that moment he didn't really care. In fact, he needed this sort of adrenaline to distract himself from melancholy that was engulfing him.

He had an idea. Suddenly the wicked smile appeared on his face and he turned to Altaïr. He enveloped him in his arms and put his lips to oblivious master assassin's ear. Taken aback by out of blue showed affection, he was really hopping that this time he will be rewarded with something more than kisses. „One," Ezio smirked, „two..." he kissed Altaïr's earlobe, and master assassin lost in Ezio's embrace seemed not to have heard his countdown.

„Three."

He jumped off the bridge playfully dragging both of them to the welcome cool of Canal. As they plumped into the water Ezio let go of Altaïr and made his way towards the surface. Cold water did wonders – he already felt more alive than ever. Clearly this was what he needed. Breaking the water's surface Italian breathed in the night's air. He then began to laugh feeling ecstatic and refreshed. Making his way towards the shore he teased Altaïr „Hurry up, you don't want to catch a cold, right? I am not going to nurse you, as much as you would like me to". Hearing no response, still grinning Ezio turned around in the water to see why is the Syrian taking so long to catch up with him.

And his smile dropped instantly.

There was no one else beside him. The water was still, apart the tiny waves he was creating while keeping himself above the surface. No bubbles that would indicate the other's presence. The Italian assassin froze on the spot. Thoughts were racing in his head, however all of them could be summed up to one word.

„Altaïr!"

* * *

**Yay, second chapter is here. Will I be able to write another one till the end of a year? Who knows. Oh thank you all, who read my story. You make me very happy, not to mention that you fuel my motivation to write more! :3**

**P.S. How can I resist Altaïr vs. water, when the story takes place in Venice. **


	3. Chapter 3

Immediately diving into the coldness of the water, Ezio swam deeper and deeper, desperate to find the other assassin. The water was dark and turbid, making it too difficult to see anything at all. He had to rely on his senses alone. However, his frantic search in the darkness was fruitless and he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He knew he had to swim to the surface, or else he'll be joining Altaïr at the bottom of the canal, but his other part refused to leave the Syrian behind. His lungs were burning, and the need of oxygen was stronger than want to save Altaïr. With aching heart he decided to swim to the surface. At the same time his feet brushed something. Relief washed over him. _Thank god. _ Holding the last bits of air in his lungs he grabbed the man and pulled both of them to the surface.

Once they emerged Ezio sucked as much air as he could manage. Securing his grasp on Altaïr, he swam to the shore. Even though exhaustion was taking its toll on him, he brought the Syrian to the shore and climbed out of the damned water himself. Panting heavily, he looked at Altaïr for the first time. The man looked dead-like, his limbs spread in every direction and the puddle of water was making its appearance around him. _What abnormal power possessed him to think, that jumping into cold water in the middle of a night was a good idea?!_

Ezio did not know what to do. He was an assassin; he was supposed to kill people, not to revive them. His panic-filled mind didn't help at all. Altaïr had drowned. He had killed him; he had killed the master assassin. The idea was choking Ezio; Altaïr had trusted him, he even put his guard down, and Ezio had messed everything. He knew he was freaking out at that moment and may have made false assumptions beforehand but that didn't change the fact that he had taken Syrian's life. Ezio couldn't avert his eyes from unmoving form of his idol. However, with shaky fingers he reached for Altaïr's hand, to check for pulse. Before doing so, Ezio had to calm his own breathing first, which was still deranged and trembling. After managing this first step he put his hand on Altaïr's wrist. Thankfully, he was able to trace a faint heartbeat, and his heart lightened.

Grateful that he can still redeem his wrongdoings, Ezio turned Altaïr on his side to let the water escape Syrian's body easier. Seeing as this method helped little, Italian's adrenaline filled mind began to think of the next step. Figuring that he should pump the water out of lungs he placed Altaïr on his back once again and started pressing his lungs as if that could squeeze the water out. "Come on!" he urged Altaïr, desperate for other to wake up. He turned Altaïr to his side again, to get rid of the remains of water; however Altaïr did not seem to regain consciousness. Ezio didn't have much time, he knew that, but what in the world was he supposed to do? Nothing seemed to work! Cursing silently Ezio was losing his hopes. In despair he even opened Syrian's mouth and tried to blow some air into Syrian's lungs, as if that would help Altaïr to remember how to breathe. Giving all of his air to the master assassin he prayed for this method to work.

_Please Altaïr, come back to me. _

Few seconds passed and Altaïr's body began twitching violently. Ezio quickly let go of him and turned him on the side for the third time that night. This time Altaïr coughed out the water. However, his coughing fit seemed endless and when his body had no water to remove, it emptied the contents of Altaïr's stomach. After throwing up the Syrian felt even worse and laid on his back to regain control over his body. Ezio was watching Altaïr this whole time, and now he felt a mixture of joy and dread. The deep breathing from the other assassin was the only sound for some time. Once Ezio felt that Altaïr's panting had calmed down he sat beside him and soothingly brushed his hair. He didn't know how to behave, or what to say to the man he had almost killed. Luckily, Altaïr was the one to break the silence.

"Are… you… mad?" his weak voice reached Ezio's ear.

The Italian was dumbfounded. "What?"

"You tried… to kill me", sentence was spoken so silently it lost its threatening tone.

"How was I supposed to know that you can't swim?" Ezio was losing his patience, all his panic now transformed into rage. He had to let it out. "You think I wasn't petrified when I realized you were sinking like an anchor? What kind of an assassin doesn't know how to act in water?!"

Then out of nowhere Altaïr began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" he asked, still clinging to the bits of anger that he held inside. Not to mention it was odd to see Altaïr laughing. Not in a bad way though…

"You care for me"

Altaïr's short sentences had a tendency to startle the Italian assassin. This time was no exception.

"What makes you say so?" Ezio could feel the flush rising to his cheeks. God, his emotions were a mess.

Now Syrian's face became serious. "Ezio, you saved my life."

The words were spoken so sincerely that Ezio lost ability to retort; instead he stared like a fish opening and closing his mouth when no words came out. Awkward silence was threatening to encompass them again.

"I'm cold" Altaïr diplomatically changed the topic.

The Italian assassin slowly became aware that they were wet from head to toe and Altaïr was shivering slightly. He didn't look like a dangerous assassin at that moment. No, in fact he looked so fragile that Ezio had this strong desire to protect him from anything in the world. Pushing the thoughts away he looked around to see if they could rest somewhere. Scanning dark surroundings he searched for a place to rest. Then, in the corner of his eye he noticed a pile of hay sitting at one of the alleys. Good, the place will be wind-proof, meaning they will not catch a cold of some kind.

"I'll take you to our temporary shelter"

The Syrian was about to inform him that it will take some time before he'll be able to walk properly, but before he could complain Ezio carefully picked him up from the ground and carried to their destination. The Italian could see that Altaïr was taken by surprise, for he locked his eyes to one spot, refusing to look anywhere else. Grinning, the Italian placed master assassin on a heap of hay, trying to make him as comfortable as it was possible in such circumstances. Noticing the increasing shiver of the Syrian assassin, Ezio was reminded of his current condition.

"I don't know how to warm you up" Ezio admitted, standing in front of Altaïr at the same time examining the area, looking for some kind of source for warmth.

"You could always use your body heat"

Ezio's head spun just in time to see Altaïr's suggestive grin. How could he do this even while laying in a death-bed was beyond his understanding! Really, who was the obscene one here?

Ah, but speaking of indecency…

"I know where we should go", a brief moment of common sense awarded Ezio with a wonderful idea. How hadn't he thought of it before?

"Where?" Altaïr asked, though Ezio could hear that the trembling of his body modified the voice.

Now it was Ezio's time to grin "We're going to pay a visit to a brothel"

If Altaïr was surprised, he showed no signs of it. Ezio could only guess what he was thinking at the moment. Their eyes locked and now it was the Italian who grinned like a cunning fox. "What? Don't you like my idea?" he teased the shivering assassin, "Have anything better to suggest?" It sounded like a challenge to Altaïr; however the Syrian brushed it off by staying silent. The decision was made then and there.

Ezio was sure that the girls at the brothel will greet them with open arms. He wasn't afraid for Altaïr either – his coldness and apathy could drive any courtesan away. What he _did _fear was the fact that they won't be able to approach the brothel from above, meaning they will have to walk on the ground. And unfortunately, the only way from here was through a well guarded area. Damn those stubborn guards, they were the only ones who weren't celebrating with the rest of the city. Grinding his teeth he cast a glance to Altaïr. The man was shivering, although putting a lot of effort not to make it obvious. Now that's a master assassin for you. _And you had nearly killed him. _

Sighing he closed his eyes and started estimating their means of travel. It wasn't far, but they'll have to move quickly, so as not to disturb the guards. The least he wanted right now was to get into a fight. The Italian was determined to carry Altaïr to the brothel; however the latter protested making slow but firm steps behind Ezio. Few times master assassin had to steady himself by holding on Ezio's shoulder, but other than that he made a great progress. It looked as his health got better with each passing minute; even his shivering seemed to lessen. Keeping an eye on Altaïr once every few seconds, the Italian assassin breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm fine"

"Hm?"

"You don't have to act like mother hen around me"

"I don't-", Ezio tried to protest.

"I've been trained as a master assassin, remember? I can see you checking on me for far too often."

The Italian chose to stay silent; his pride won't let him admit the defeat.

As they were coming nearer to the brothel Ezio spotted few guards pacing along the street. _So it begins. _"Quick hide" he instantly dragged Altaïr around the corner. "Stay here, while I'll deal with the guards.

"No."

Ezio muttered incomprehensible Italian curses before trying to calm himself down. Altaïr was stubborn as a mule. He had to convince him to change his mind.

He locked his eyes on him, in order to make sure Altaïr gets the point. "Look, we don't have time to argue. You are too weak to help me, and I don't want you to be a hindrance to me. Understand?"

Altaïr remained quiet.

Silence meant yes and that was all Ezio needed. A sudden pull startled Ezio and he almost lost his balance when Altaïr crashed his mouth to the Italian's. The forcefulness that had appeared out of nowhere was flowing into their kiss. It didn't take long for Altaïr to dominate and now he was practically ravishing the other's lips. The heat of the moment ended as abruptly as it had started. While Ezio still tried to regain his breath, the master assassin touched their foreheads together and whispered silent words.

"Be quick"

Ezio did not know whether that was a warning or a hint to something else, but either way he was now stealthily approaching the guards. He could see six of them. Two were securing the entrance and other four were constantly pacing back and forth. He will not be able to kill four guards without alarming the other two, but he cannot approach the guards at the entrance undetected either. _Merda. _He had no other choice but to improvise. _I'll have to move extremely fast._ Ezio quickly ran to the nearby cart full of old leaves and hay and hid himself. Thankfully, guards didn't notice him. Crouching in the cart he waited for a perfect moment to strike. The assassin could hear guards' footsteps approaching, and once they were within the range Ezio stuck his blades into their throats.

_Two down, four to go. _

"_Assassino!"_ the guards had acknowledged his presence. The Italian assassin could see that one of the guards disappeared; probably went to call reinforcements. Once he's back the hell shall break lose. Pulling out his sword he deflected the guard who was aiming for his head. With the quick lift of his arm he had suddenly became aware of his wet clothing, which was sticking to his skin, making it harder to move. This wasn't good. He kicked the guard, making him lose his balance, and before he could react Ezio slashed at his chest, turned around and stabbed guard's stomach from behind. Soft gurgling escaped the man's throat, before he fell defeated.

The guard that went to ask for help was nowhere to be seen. Maybe Ezio will finish dealing with those two guards before the said man could arrive? That would be indeed convenient. He kept dodging the guard who was armed with a heavy axe in his hands, the weapon made his holder's speed decrease, and well that was advantageous for Ezio. The assassin threw various insults towards the guard to irritate him and it worked. He kept avoiding the blade of an axe and once the moment was right he caught the man's wrists twisting them painfully until the guard dropped his weapon. From that point forward it was a child's play. As soon as the guard slumped to the ground, Ezio lunged at the last guard. He could see why this guard was securing the entrance. His speed matched Ezio's and he was deflecting assassin's blows rather easily. He even succeeded in placing few cuts on assassin's arms, and now Ezio's white sleeves were damped not only with water, but also blood. The Italian assassin was cursing with every word he could think of. This guard was taking too much time. He won't make it before the reinforcements arrive.

Corresponding to his thoughts the sound of footsteps and clatter of armor was drawing near.

_"Cazzo!_" His opponent could see the growing anxiety and made sure to use against Ezio. The blows were quicker, the blade was sharper, and the assassin had difficulty to deflect every one of them. His wet clothes were restraining him and he felt his energy being drained. The hard kick into his stomach made him see the stars and he unceremoniously fell to the ground. Stones were digging into his cheek, but he paid no mind, the pain in his gut was exceeding everything else. Trying to stand up he heard the sound of a blade piercing the night's air, and Ezio prepared for the coming final blow.

However he received none.

Looking over his shoulder he saw Altaïr attacking the guard with such force and speed that unless he focused really hard he saw nothing but a white blur. Within a few seconds the guard was laying in a large pool of blood, killed brutally. Before Ezio could stand up, Altaïr pulled him by his arm and dragged into the nearby alley to hide from the oncoming guards. How could their roles switch so quickly? Wasn't master assassin the one who was hurt and weak? Truly, the man was a mystery.

Altaïr was holding Ezio from behind, one of his hands tightly secured around the other's chest and another was put on the Italian's mouth to prevent him from making any sounds. Trying to calm his rapid breathing he noticed that the pain in his stomach was fading out. Good, so that was temporary pain. At that moment they could hear shouts of guards that were now examining the battleground. By the sound of it, Ezio estimated that more than ten guards had arrived. He felt gratitude towards Altaïr; if it weren't for him, the Italian would be twitching in agony right now. The man leaned into master assassin, a poor substitute for a hug he knew, but that was the only possible way in their current situation. The only sound he received from older assassin was the sharp intake of breath.

Despite the danger that was just around the corner, the Italian decided that he liked that sound coming from the other; and so he lightly grinded his backside this time. The response was immediate. Ezio could hear that Altaïr tried to suppress noises that were coming from his throat. In addition, Altaïr leaned to the Italian's ear and growled silently, so as not to trigger guards' suspicions. "If you won't stop your actions I will ignore the fact that guards can spot us any second and I will ravish you right here this instant. So please be obedient and control your behavior." Altaïr's tone was deadly serious, but Ezio had already got used to his dark character. However, he remained composed from that time forward.

A good ten minutes passed till guards had given up their search for assassins and once they collected the corpses, the passage was clear. Ungluing themselves from the wall both men quickly crossed the place. The brothel was just around the corner and Ezio had never felt happier to recognize the building's decorations. Almost all windows had curtains tightly drawn, signaling that the chambers were occupied. Just as Ezio was going to knock, Altaïr grabbed his shoulder.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" It was odd to hear uncertainty in Altaïr's voice.

"Absolutely sure," the confidence in his tone was influential "Come on _amico mio_, we both need to dry off and rest." He sent a smile to the master assassin, and though the other said nothing it was a silent acceptance.

Not long after, they were standing surrounded by many beautiful women, who were ready to serve them in any possible way. Altaïr stood motionless, ignoring women's sweet whispers and light brushes across his chest. He _really_ thought this was the worst idea ever. Fortunately, Ezio knew how to deal with the courtesans and before women could molest Altaïr any further they were given a private room with a fireplace. The Syrian could hear Ezio flirting with one of the courtesans while standing in the doorway, but he paid no heed. He wished to get rid of this damp clothing and fast.

As he was unfastening his short blade he heard the door closing. Looking up he saw Ezio coming closer with unmasked lust in his eyes. Oh how he waited for this. He wanted to pull him into a mind-blowing kiss, but the Italian's extended hand stopped him from doing so.

"What-"

Ezio put his finger on Altaïr's lips to shut him up. He then slowly peeled Altaïr's hood off and traced his hand downwards, to untie the Syrian assassin's sash and the belt. Altaïr stood rooted while Ezio untangled him. It was obvious that he enjoyed this, for he took his time, teasing master assassin to no end. Once the belt and sheath had dropped to the ground, he unbuckled leather vambraces and removed the hidden blade. Ezio thought the other would protest to being exposed like this, but seeing no signs of contradiction he carried on. Once he lazily took off Altaïr's white tunic and grey under-robe Ezio observed tiny goose bumps forming on the Syrian's arms.

"You're cold," he observed, "sit," he motioned Altaïr to a place on the carpet in front of the fireplace. Yet again, without any complaining, the Syrian obeyed, sitting cross-legged. When Ezio wanted to join him, Altaïr prevented him from doing so. "Take off your clothes first". Such a blunt statement amused the Italian. So he wanted games, hm? Ezio smiled sheepishly and ever so slowly began removing the straps that were holding his cape in place. Other belts and armor followed, leaving the Italian assassin unarmed. All the time he was watching Altaïr's reaction attentively and although his facial expression remained the same, he could see that the Syrian assassin hungrily watched Ezio's every move. Feeling satisfied, he carried on with his show. Taking off the outer layers of his soaked attire he threw them away. Finally he was left only with his thin cotton shirt which was now quite transparent and clingy. The blood on his sleeves reminded him of a fight that happened not so long ago, but these wounds were of no importance to him. He had worse.

Altaïr was growing impatient while observing slow and tormenting display before his eyes. And now he couldn't take much longer. Beckoning Ezio to come closer he felt the need throbbing inside his body. As soon as Ezio had kneeled before him, he attacked his mouth with such force that Ezio was made to lay on the ground with Altaïr above him. In a short while, his shirt had disappeared, as well as the remaining clothing. The crackling fire illuminated their bodies, painting their skin bronze. No words were necessary when they exchanged kisses and bites, nor when the touches became wild and sinful. Both assassins were not sure where the heat was coming from – the fireplace or their bodies, but it felt pleasant and satisfying. Their want and need were finally fulfilled in the moment of indescribable passion. Once their lust had subsided they were a tangle of limbs curled near the still flaming fire.

Their time was running short, and Ezio's depression was once again making its appearance. He remembered the promise he had made before deciding to stay with Altaïr once more. He knew he had to cut off their bond, but how? How could he convince master assassin that he didn't care for him, when so many things had happened? It was only one night, and yet they had experienced so much. Altaïr still remained a mystery to him, but he had learned so many things about him as well. Ezio was curious and greedy; he did not want to let Altaïr go. And then that small voice reminded him why he was tormenting himself like this in the first place.

Placing his palm on Altaïr's chest he could feel his heart beating lazily. Such tranquility was rare to him. He knew that when he had chosen the path of an assassin he automatically declined any kind of relationship in his life as well as peacefulness. And yet, Altaïr was like a miracle, appearing out of the blue sky. He was an exception, evading every rule, making a mess in Ezio's mind. _Sigh_. Still, he had to do this; for both of their sakes. Sitting up, he caught Altaïr's questioning look.

"It can't go on like this," he winced at the weak tone of his voice. Okay, not a very good start.

"What are you talking about?" Altaïr was puzzled for far too often.

Clearing his throat, with a deep breath Ezio put his head in a noose.

"I have fiancée."

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**Aaaand the next chapter will supposedly be the last. You people are truly a wonder, I would never have thought that I could get so much feedback. :3 Despite having to prepare for a bunch of exams I tried to present you this chapter as soon as it was possible. Anyway, I'm still not sure if this story will have a happy ending, but I suppose it's all up to you. So let me know your opinions! **

**P.S. I'm almost absolutely sure that people did not know about CPR in 15th century. And taking into consideration that da Vinci was learning anatomy by dissecting dead bodies I wasn't even sure if Ezio could know names of human organs at that time. Correct me if I'm wrong. This thought bugged me for a long time.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

For a moment the world seemed to have stopped. Nothing moved, nothing stirred and Ezio could only predict what was happening in Altaïr's mind. Was he mad? Was he scared? He did not dare to look Altaïr in the eye. No, not yet. Thousands of unspoken thoughts were swimming in the air and the Italian could do nothing but wait for the others response. Any response at all would be enough. However seconds ticked by and not a sound escaped the Syrian's lips. Silence greeted him; the most terrible reaction.

Ezio fidgeted with the clothes spread over his body, trying to ease the inner tension, waiting for the oncoming blow. With a corner of his eye he saw Altaïr laying on his back looking at nothing in particular, eyes fixed on the ceiling, not a single muscle moving. If not for a light heaving of his chest Ezio could mistake him for being dead. That's a master assassin for you. Always convincing, always prepared for the worse. Or was he wrong? He had no idea how Altaïr coped with an idea of marriage, but it seemed that it was a serious matter, seeing that the master assassin was left speechless.

Their silence was disturbed by the chirping of the larks. The dawn was approaching and Ezio wanted nothing more than to run away from Altaïr as far as possible. He did not want to see the Syrian disappear once more. He would break down and spoil his well thought plan. No, it's not how it should be, especially when his scheme seemed to be working so well. He had to leave the Syrian's side and fast, not to give any fake hopes for himself nor for Altaïr. With a determination the Italian stood up from their nest situated near the fireplace and began dressing up, still avoiding looking at Altaïr's side.

Fixing the last of his belts he began looking for his long forgotten shoes. How could they vanish in such a small room? He didn't even remember at what time he took them off, and so now he was searching every corner for his footwear. Finally finding them behind the long and rich curtains, Ezio proceeded towards the bed in order to put on his shoes properly. Once he landed on the bed with a soft creak from the mattress he began with the lacing.

"How long?" Altaïr's unexpected voice startled Ezio. It was small and weak voice, so unlike the Syrian assassin. He did not turn to look at Altaïr, instead he continued working on his shoes. "How long what?" he asked as a matter-of-factly, trying to sound unaffected by the other's feeble tone. Ugh these boots, why are there so many buckles in the first place? "How long are you betrothed?" the emptiness in Altaïr's voice showed Ezio just how much it hurt the other. Maybe he overdid himself… but no, he did what had to be done. Now he just had to play along and end this madness once and for all.

"For less than a year. I've met her not long after you had left and we fell in love almost instantly." Love, heh. Who was he to talk about love? All his romances were quick to end, not even once had he thought about marrying any of his concubines. He needed them just to relax, to put all the unnecessary thoughts away, to use them as a distraction. Nevertheless, lies spilled from his mouth freely, almost in a masochistic fashion, "Naturally I asked her hand and she was more than glad to accept." Ezio didn't know who he pained more, himself or Altaïr. It all seemed surreal to him, these fake tales and their purpose. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Wouldn't it be better if he just told Altaïr the truth? No. He is used to pain, and so should Altaïr.

His twisted mind had lost control over his tongue and now he was blabbering about this woman and her wonderful personality and appearance. Why was he doing this? He tried to act hopelessly in love, proving this woman's superiority, supposedly admiring her. He hoped Altaïr would be convinced by his careless talks. He hoped his silver tongue will deceive the sharp mind of the master assassin's. All the while he would let a small smile appear on his face as he mentioned her name, or small chuckle escape his lips when he supposedly recalled something funny. He could not help but notice that Altaïr didn't interrupt him. It seemed that he wasn't paying attention to his talk, his silence continued to hurt Ezio. The Italian really tried to act like nothing was wrong, but despite his efforts he could sense the uneasiness in Altaïr, who laid under the covers; still warm and inviting. At one moment the Italian realized he was his only obstacle preventing him from returning to Altaïr's side. Instead of weaving lies about his future marriage he could be snuggling with the Syrian, smelling his skin and listening to his heartbeat.

"…and that was the most beautiful evening we had in a long time." Ezio finished with his chattering, almost unaware what he was talking about. So many thoughts were swirling in his head and he battled them constantly. With a pat on his knees he finished fixing his boots, and now, when all his attire was in order he was ready to go. At last he turned his head towards Altaïr wanting to drink into his appearance for the last time. However what he saw surprised him. It was the least he had expected from someone as strong as his master assassin. There, cloaked by the bits of his own discarded clothing Altaïr laid without making a sound. He had covered his eyes with his forearm, hiding from the world around him. Despite trying to have control over his body, Ezio could see how the Syrian occasionally twitched in a silent grief. The Italian was at loss. Was he wrong about Altaïr all along? How could this legendary assassin be affected by his –_his- _words? Did he really mean so much to this man? It cannot be. They know each other for basically two days. There is no way anyone could get attached so quickly. Or at least that's what he thought.

Then he understood. The man, the Altaïr he had heard so much about was a wise old man. He who had learned life lessons the hard way. And here laid the assassin, yes _master_ assassin, but nevertheless still around his twenties. Ezio might have underestimated him. This man didn't face much loss, still had this flaming fire inside to keep him going. Also, he was young and their brief encounters will be forgotten in no time. He'll find himself a proper wife and produce healthy children. The idea made an uneasy feeling inside the Italian's stomach, but he dismissed it. He had this argument before, no need to dwell on again.

The sharp intake of breath brought him back. Was the master assassin crying? Hesitantly Ezio approached the figure of a Syrian, kneeling beside the said man. "Altaïr…" he began extending his hand to pat the other's shoulder, a small sign of comfort. Once his gloved hand touched the other's skin Altaïr sprang up, grabbing Ezio in a brutal way and locking him in his embrace. Then in a flash he was capturing the Italian's lips pouring his despair into the others mouth. Ah, in any other situation the Italian wouldn't mind such attack. However, it clashed with his well set plan and he kept convincing himself that this was just misery appearing in Syrian's behavior. He did not respond to the kiss, showing his disagreement with master assassin's actions. But the other paid no heed. His mind was clouded and he used the ultimate assassin weapon in order to get what he wants; force. Ezio on the other hand tried to escape the Syrian's clutch, thrashing his head to break this tormenting kiss. He wriggled and tried to pull away, but Altaïr's sudden outburst was unstoppable. His strength increased and the Italian could not help but think that this must be the power he uses against his enemies, the power to kill. Suddenly he felt helpless and for a little while he really thought he'd change his mind and let Altaïr have his way. Fortunately his stubbornness took upper hand and he used his only advantage. Being fully dressed that is.

With a silent hiss he drew out his hidden blade and the Syrian, quite familiar with this sound stopped abruptly. Nasty grin made its way to the Syrian's lips and when the blade appeared close to his neck he slowly pulled away, letting Ezio go. The Italian was confused. Had the man gone mad? He looked terrifying, grinning like this and his look… the look of a killer. Standing up he stepped back, not daring to sheathe his blade just yet. "Altaïr, I'm going." His voice was serious, stating the fact that could not be denied. Their eyes were still connected, both afraid to look away. Ezio did not know why he waited for some kind of response from the Syrian. After all he was a grown man; he made his own decisions, no matter the others' opinions. Still, he waited, feet rooted to the spot refusing to leave just yet. It might be their last meeting.

Every second passed dreadfully slow but eventually Altaïr rose up and approached the still alarmed Ezio. His look had softened no more eeriness on his face. That was enough for Ezio to draw his blade back and he waited for Altaïr to speak. Once the Syrian was close enough, he put his hands on each of Ezio's shoulder, leaning into him, foreheads touching. "Ezio," his name spoken in a hushed voice sent shivers down his spine, "you are a great assassin. I wouldn't have thought you to be of such a cruel nature." The words stabbed Italian. "To fool me, to fool master assassin… you'll have much success in your life. Your skills will guide you." Ezio stood unmoving, silently cursing himself for his fate, the hot breath and silent words did nothing to ease his scheme and the idea of a bare assassin so close to himself was more than unnerving. "But tell me," he continued, "why? Why did you indulge yourself in such an affair in the first place?" Altaïr was stroking Ezio's long locks by now, the action which calmed the Italian and made him regret his choice once more. He did not want to lie anymore, but there was no way to turn back, so he had to move the only way he could, forward.

"I was curious. Curious to what it feels like to lie with a kind like you." At least this wasn't a pure falsity. He really was curious, that's why he didn't pull back that night exactly a year ago. But there was something else too. Something Ezio did not understand yet. "And did I satisfy your curiosity?" What kind of question was that? Did he feel satisfied back then? Oh yes, yes he did. However it only inflated his interest in Altaïr, the mysterious man, the legendary assassin. When Ezio failed to answer the Syrian's question, another followed. "Why did you save me from drowning?" Ah, another accurate question. It took less thinking though, the words were spilling freely. "I couldn't let a fellow assassin die in the cold depths of the Canal, especially when the accident was induced by no other than me." The answer seemed not to have pleased Altaïr at all and he stopped petting the Italian's hair. Closing his eyes he let a small sigh escape his lips. The warm breath tickled Ezio's nose and he wanted to bury himself in the warmth of the man before him. Resisting the urge he remained motionless, letting Altaïr tell everything he wanted to.

"What now?" his voice sounded tired and Ezio could feel the end approaching in giant leaps. "I'll return to my fiancée. We have many preparations for the wedding." He could notice a tiny wince on Altaïr's face at the mention of the wedding. By now Ezio had seen many different emotions cross the Syrian's face. Nevertheless, every time he was caught off guard by this. Altaïr's inner mask was crumbling and fast. "Will you come next year?" the question startled Ezio. It was the least he had expected. How could he even think about such a blasphemy? Didn't he tell him that he is to be married? Shouldn't that tell him that their affair was over? Of course he may not be religious and the idea of god's punishment may mean little to him, but the idea of breaking the promise, breaking the lifetime commitment should surely ring some bells in that stupid head of his! Obviously he would have to break the concept to him by pieces. "Altaïr, I'll have a wife to keep me company by then."

"I don't care"

"Altaïr"

"I don't care! You can have as many wives as you want, they would not stop me from seeing you!" Ezio noticed, he was getting angry again. Such mood swings… surely he wasn't feeling well. Regardless, the thought that Altaïr fought so much to keep them together was warming his heart. Never had he seen such determination before. Pulling away just a bit to see Altaïr better he tried to stay reasonable.

"You're being delusional."

"You are the delusional one here! You cannot read between the lines, blind to my intentions, blind to me!"

Riddles were never his strongest part, and now he was more than confused. "What are you sayi-"

"I love you, damn it."

The next words he prepared to throw at Altaïr stuck in his own throat. Feeling like choking he tried to understand what he just heard. This naked –_shamelessly naked- _man before him just told him the words Ezio hoped never to hear. Everything turned to be ten times more difficult than he had first anticipated. His willpower was weakening and Ezio found it hard to rethink everything through. Suddenly their encounter reminded the Italian of chess. They were placing figures, making strategies and these turning points, these startling confessions were equivalents of a 'check'. It seemed that they were trying to conquer each other, although Ezio wasn't sure if Altaïr did that intentionally. He shouldn't let his feelings win, love or no love. And anyway, how did he feel? Scared. Ezio was afraid of any commitment; he was a free bird, belonging to no one, flying high over the rooftops, feeling soft wind's caress.

Putting on his defensive mode before any more thoughts could invade his already tired mind, Ezio made another deadly move. "My fiancée is pregnant." Ezio realized that those were the first words after Altaïr had confessed his feelings. He also realized how cruel this should sound to the Syrian. Altaïr should think him cold hearted and merciless, and even though it hurt Ezio more and more with each passing minute, he wished this terrible night to end. Seeing as another wave of shock crossed Altaïr's eyes he thought the other would do something reckless and aggressive. Instead he composed himself and turned around without saying another word. It looked as if the master assassin came to terms with something in his mind. Maybe he got over the fact that his company was no longer desired? He really hoped so. Locking his eyes on the Syrian's shoulder blades he was waiting for any sudden movement or action, even pleading to stay or explain himself. Receiving nothing of such sort, Ezio was both disappointed and relieved at the same time. Well it seemed that his work here was done, and despite this ugly inner feeling he was glad it was all over.

Without further ado he made his way to the door. It's better for him to leave now, when Altaïr occupied himself. It would save him another awkward silence; he made quite a mess already. It was pointless to justify his lies, he knew, and so with a heavy heart he brushed past the half dressed Syrian, not giving him a chance to say goodbye. He left the room without a glance back. He was gone forever, never to see Altaïr again.

* * *

Walking down the quiet streets of Venice Ezio shuddered at the sudden cold coming from the sea. Crossing his arms and trying to prevent the warmth escaping his body he hastened his pace. He decided to head for a nearby tavern. Some wine will help him collect his thoughts. As soon as he entered the said building he was greeted with a sight of miserable drunkards. It was a depressing place to be, but he felt it was exactly what he needed right now. There were all sorts of men. Some were tired from all the celebrations around the city, their costumes lost their appeal and now looked rather funny in a place like this. Other customers looked more terrible. Their glassy eyes looked before them, and as Ezio assumed, they were drinking in order to forget something obnoxious. He seated himself in the far corner of a tavern, ordering the strongest wine. He might as well join them.

After a bottle or two, the Italian assassin felt worse and worse. By the time the second bottle was empty he recalled previous events and blamed himself for destroying his own flash of happiness. He wasn't an ordinary man, he was an assassin, how could he even think about creating a proper family, let alone have children? He cannot settle in one place, he is always on the move from one city to another, always having tasks to do, always stalking his enemies, killing templars one by one. No, he must exclude family as a possible opportunity for him. He might have had such idealistic illusions a few years ago when he wasn't troubled, when he wasn't a trained killer, but not now. To make matters worse, because of his foolishness he rejected the one man who he wasn't even supposed to meet at all. Altaïr was a surprise in his life, a pleasant surprise to say the least. Putting aside their intimate moments there were so many layers of Altaïr, Ezio was eager to understand. He could have learned so many things, would have gained so much wisdom. And it would have been wonderful to have such a companion and a friend by his side. Then Altaïr's confession reappeared in his mind. The Syrian said he loved him. Ezio still couldn't understand how it was possible. He tried to write this statement off, thinking it was the desperate move from Altaïr, but again and again these words were repeating themselves inside his head.

Sipping from the third bottle that morning Ezio was already close to tears. Alcohol worked its charms and eventually the Italian lost it. Leaning on his elbow he hid his eyes and sinking into the hood let few tears run down his cheeks. He messed everything up. He pushed away the Fate's gift and condemned himself to miserable and lonely life. He's young now, yes, but the youth will wither and he'll grow old. He doubted he'd manage to serve the Brotherhood for so long, and without it he'd have nothing to live for. What were the chances he would find such happiness as he had again? He'd remember the previous night all his lifetime, how he denied the master assassin and turned down his love. Slamming his fist forcefully on the table he let an angry growl. Ezio didn't want such life, he wanted Altaïr back. If his happiness could last only a little bit over a month so be it. He would live those days to full extent and will be happy.

Deciding against his rational mind he stood up abruptly and was forced to sit down again. The wine was surely strong and the world was spinning violently under his feet. Making another attempt to stand up he was more successful and managed to stay vertical this time. Slowly making his way outside he pushed the heavy wooden doors and flinched as the bright sun raked his sore eyes. The waking of a new day reminded Ezio that he could restore his wrongdoings only next year and his heart clenched when he realized he won't be seeing the Syrian for such a long time again. Nevertheless he staggered down the street, earning the remarks from the people about being drunk this early in the morning. Ezio ignored them, his mind occupied with the thought about Altaïr and how he was going to explain his _brilliant _plan to the man. Ah, he'll have time for that later. In fact, he'll have twelve boring months to think about it. What matters most is that he finally came to terms with himself and admitted his undeniable need to be with the Syrian assassin.

From the amounts of people gathering around Ezio could assume it was close to noon. It was getting troublesome to make way through the crowds and he found it difficult to control his own legs. At one time his eye caught something similar to the white assassin's hood flowing with a mass, but the Italian brushed it off. _I may have overdosed that wine… _ Feeling too dizzy to go any longer, Ezio sat on a bench in the shade of a tree, that damned sun still annoyed his eyesight. Remembering his own hood he pulled it on and felt instantly better. Still sitting he let his eyes wander to the crowd constantly moving down the main street. The city was recovering from last night's festivities, everyone sharing their own stories and happenings during the Carnival. Growing tired of their blabbering Ezio rose up from the bench and winced as a terrible headache started to appear. Turning to the narrow street Ezio headed to his temporary lodgings. He needed to sober himself and what could perform this task better than a nice restful sleep?

* * *

It was one of those times when the sleep is so short that it seems one minute you close your eyes the other you already have to wake up. No dreams had visited Ezio and a soft tickle of a curtain woke him up. He enjoyed those peaceful mornings when he let himself laze around and stay in bed for a little longer. With closed eyes he rejoiced in how the wind was blowing the sleep from his face, but the curtain was starting to get annoying. Ezio covered his head to avoid the brush of a curtain against his face and now was once again surrounded by the darkness under his blanket. Feeling content he was once again drifting off to sleep reminding himself to tie those curtains next time. Wait. He quickly opened his eyes. There were no curtains. Immediately sitting up he was prepared to attack the templar, dagger already in his hand. He mentally praised himself for obtaining a habit to keep at least one weapon under his pillow in case of emergency.

However he froze at the sight before him, eyes wide and mind blank. Ezio instantly felt dizzy whether from yesterday's wine or current fright and he was more than glad that he was sitting rather than standing because his legs would surely betray him. At the side of his bed sat Altaïr. The man wasn't smiling and had his hood up, hiding his eyes. In his hands he twisted a single white feather, probably the one which Ezio mistook for a damned curtain. Before the Italian could understand what was going on, Altaïr spoke out. "There is no wife" that was a statement, "and there is no child" he couldn't make anything from the Syrian's tone. Was that accusation? Disappointment? Happiness? "So why, _why_ did you lie to me?" Altaïr had turned his hooded face towards Ezio, who was still petrified, clutching his dagger firmly in his hand refusing to let it go. He was in shock and Altaïr was still waiting for his answer. What was he to say? He thought he had plenty of time to practice his speech to make everything sound less messed up and now… now Altaïr _–who wasn't supposed to be here in the first place- _was demanding an answer himself. Ezio tried, he really tried to speak, to form any word and only after a while, with a great difficulty he managed, though his voice was shaky and words slurred. It seemed to be the longest period of time Ezio was forced to talk. He finished explaining his scheme and now it sounded even more foolish than he had imagined in his mind.

Once his speech was over he allowed Altaïr to comprehend what the man had just heard. Still not able to get over the fact that Altaïr was in fact here Ezio remained sitting up, praying that the Syrian would not storm out of this room hating the other for the rest of his life. But wait, wouldn't that clash with Altaïr's confession of undying love for him? At the same time he heard a silent chuckle coming from the master assassin's side. Before he could question what's so funny, he was tackled to the bed once more becoming crushed under the weight of the Syrian assassin. He felt the other nuzzling in his collarbone and this uncommon sensation made Ezio warm. So was he forgiven? "You stupid man" he could sense Altaïr's lips moving against his throat, "how did you even come up with such a moronic idea..? I honestly hope that your assassination strategies are better than this" and he snorted rather loudly before raising his head to look into Ezio's eyes. He could see the sparks dancing in Syrian's eyes; it was the happy face of Altaïr, he assumed. Well, it suited him, ten times better than his usual scowl. The Syrian wasn't moving as if expecting something from Ezio, but instead the Italian asked the question which troubled him the most. "How come you're here?"

"I don't know"

"You don't know?"

With a sigh Altaïr explained. "The Apple was taking me back and I was being pulled like I was the other time. I was so sick at heart thanks to you, but after the glowing light I didn't see my hometown, instead I remained in the same room at the brothel." He waited few seconds before continuing, "I was confused to say the least, but I also wanted to find you at any cost. I wished to ask you for your motives or at least to touch you one last time, but you were gone. Running outside I began asking local people about you and luckily some of them actually knew you. Talk about stealth, hm? Anyway, some of them knew you well enough to give me some other information about your… private life." To that he smirked, obviously knowing something wicked from Ezio's adventures. Ignoring the smirk Ezio concluded, "So that's how you found out I have no wife or baby"

"Exactly."

Ezio found it difficult to follow what Altaïr was saying and he needed time to digest all this conversation, but then another question popped in his mind.

"How long will you stay?"

"I don't know. But…" he sat up on Ezio's legs, opened one of his bags and pulled out a glowing sphere for Ezio to see "the Apple dropped at my feet when the glow faded so I suppose my time of departure is up to me."

Ezio's heart was racing; his slow mind finally understood where this was all going.

"Will you leave?"

Altaïr smiled that beautiful smile of his and leaned over Ezio until their noses touched.

"No." And to prove his point he dipped his head and kissed the Italian. Feeling the familiar lips upon his own, Ezio was undeniably happy, and he responded with such eagerness that Altaïr couldn't help a tiny moan escape his throat. It was soft and loving kiss, not like those lust filled wild battles they had before. What they needed now was tenderness; after all it was such a rarity in assassin's life. Once the kiss had ended Altaïr positioned himself over the Italian, his breathing tickled Ezio's cheek. Ezio was still sleepy, not quite getting a hold of what was happening at the moment, but he was glowing because of how everything turned out to be. Certainly Fate was a strange thing, and he was grateful to have finally chosen the right thing. To seal his happiness he planted a light kiss on Altaïr's lips and invited the Syrian to join him under his bundle of blankets. The master assassin was glad to comply. Ah but…

"Ezio?"

"Hm?"

"You can drop that dagger now."

* * *

**Finally finished! Thank God, I thought I'll never manage to write this. I'm not sure if I'm ever going to write another story divided by chapters. Such responsibility. Anyway since it's finished, I can finally rest in peace, till another idea comes to my mind. Thank you all for your kind reviews, they are sublime. Also, I'm always open for a discussion, and online for more than a sane person should be, so if any of you wants to chat or anything, message me. :3**


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